


First Kill

by Th3_Morrigan



Series: Firsts [4]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: 15 year old Altair, 16 year old Jacob and Evie, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, bit of angst, blooding, fisrt kill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:11:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Th3_Morrigan/pseuds/Th3_Morrigan
Summary: "Jacob, I don't need to remind you that this is serious business. This isn't training practice anymore, and it definitely isn't a game. Mess this up and there will be dire consequences. Or do I need to tell you the story of Arbaaz Mir's son again?"





	1. Altair

He walked the streets of Acre seen but unseen. Everything he had been taught so far, everything he had learned, he was putting to use. He tracked his target, and paid attention to his surroundings as well.

A fleeting flash of white on the rooftops before him told him he was being watched. He gave no mind to the Assassin on the roof, although he would have thought his Master would have gone through greater pains to remain unseen. 

Up ahead, his target stopped at a fruit stall. Altair slowed his pace and hung back, retreating into an alcove. His target was haggling with the fruit vendor. He was waving a bag of coins in the vendor's face, distracting him, but his other hand was busy pocketing some fruits.

So, his target was a thief.

The man conitnued on, and after some time rounded the corner into an alley. This would be the perfect spot to take him down, Altair thought. But the nearer he got to the mouth of the alley, the more Altair doubted the man deserved the punishment that was about to be dealt him. Thievery was a crime, yes, but surely it was not punishable by death, especially theft as petty as a few apples?

Altair shook his head. No, he thought, do not question the Master's instructions. The man must die, I must kill him.

He peered into the alley. He saw the man at the far end. He made a turn to the left into another alley. Altair hurried silently after him.

As he approached, Altair heard a woman's muffled voice, and sounds of struggle. He peered around the corner and saw the man pinning a woman to the wall of the alley. One hand held both of hers above her head, the other was reaching under her skirt.

"I told you I'd find you, wench," he said. "I told you what would happen if you failed to pay me."

"Please," the woman sobbed. "I can find the money. Please, don't do this. I beg you."

"You keep saying that yet you keep fucking me over. I say it's time to repay the favor." He hurled the woman to the ground and got on top of her, straddling her waist. "That boy of yours is never going to get well anyway. Money you spend on him is money wasted."

She was in such shock she couldn't seem to make a sound.

Anger filled Altair. All doubt as to this man's death left him. Altair was suddenly determined that the man would die today by his hand.

The boy stepped into the alley. The man looked up and sniggered t him.

"Go away boy. Run back to your mother. Nothing for you to see here."

Altair stood his ground. "Let her go."

The man looked up at Altair menacingly. He expected to be challenged by the woman, not some teenage boy trying to be a hero.

"Boy, if you don't leave now, you will taste the sting of my blade."

Altair did not move. He readied himself for an attack, watching the man's every move in anticipation.

The man got up from the woman. Altair noted that the man was had trouble getting up from his kneeling position, a sign his knees were not as limber. The man assumed a defensive stance, knife at the ready. He waited for Altair to make the first move, but Altair just stood there, arms at his side.

The woman, having been momentarily freed of her captor, took this opportunity to make a run for it. She took a last look back at her savior, a mere boy of about fifteen years, before she made a run for it. She wanted to tell him to run too, but no words came.

"You made me loose my collection, boy. Now I'm going to have to take it out on you." The man suddenly attacked Altair, putting all of his force in the blade aimed for Altair's heart.

Time seemed to slow down for the Altair. He saw the man rushing at him. He studied the position of the man's blade, the trajectory of the swing of his arm, the speed he was moving forward. He calculated his move, visualizing where he would step, how to block the man's swing, and how he would finally bury his hidden blade in the man's neck.

It all happened in a flash. One moment the man was attacking, the next he was down on his knees, gurgling as blood gushed from his throat where the end of Altair's blade protruded. 

Altair contracted his hidden blade and the man fell face-first into the dirt. 

He looked at the man at his feet. Blood was seeping out of him and soaking into the floor of the alley. This wasn't the first dead body he had seen, but it was the first one he had actually killed. 

"Nice and swift. Very good, Altair," Said a voice from behind him. "Not bad for your firs kill."

Altair turned to face his Master. 

"How do you feel?"

"Master?" Altair was a bit confused by the question. 

"You took a life. Your very first, and one of many more. Hoe does it make you feel?"

He had heard stories in the citadel about an Assassin's first kill, how hard it was for most initiates. He had wondered up to this day if he would feel the same hesitation or trepidation. He realized he hadn't. Taking the man's life seemed the most natural thing in the world to him. He was at ease with it.

"He deserved it," Altair said simply. His Master nodded.

"Al Mualim was right about you." He steered the boy away from the dead man and they walked out of the alley like nothing happened. "You saved that woman's life. You should be proud."

They made their way to the gates of Acre. His Master was glad that for once he didn't have to comfort a grief-stricken novice, but he was also wary of how emotionless the boy was about his first kill. For a moment, the Master felt the great ruthless power the boy possessed within him, and he felt an irrational fear he could not quite explain.

But the feeling quickly passed. Al Mualim had said he had high expectations for the boy. He hoped The Mentor was right about this one.


	2. Jacob and Evie Frye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jacob, I don't need to remind you that this is serious business. This isn't training practice anymore, and it definitely isn't a game. Mess this up and there will be dire consequences. Or do I need to tell you the story of Arbaaz Mir's son again?"

Evie and Jacob stood before their father in the study. George Westhouse was present too. Today was a very important day. Today was the day of their first blooding.

"Remember your training," their father lectured as he placed the floor in front of them. "And above all else, remember our Creed: hide in plain sight, stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent, and never compromise the Brotherhood."

Evie, ever the studious perfectionist, was trying to memorize every word her father said. Jacob, on the other hand, was only half paying attention. That bloody creed was drilled to them ever day since they started their training. He didn't need to be reminded yet again. He wanted to be off and begin their real path towards being Assassins. 

"Now, I assume you both studied your targets well? Evie?"

"Mr. Harold Marsh, banker." Evie recited by rote, having read and re-read her dossier and  her notes a million times yesterday. "Unfair money lending practices, and he's financing some of the Templar strongholds in and around Crawley."

"When and where?"

"He takes the same route to and from work everyday. There's a stretch of road that takes him through a wooded area. There's less chance of other people being on that road on his way to work. That's where I plan to strike."

"How?"

"Hijack the carriage, drive to a more secluded location, execute him."

"Very good. Jacob?"

"Albert Hill, trader. The man's a bloody bastard." 

There was a sharp intake of breath from Evie, and Ethan's brow furrowed. He never was one for formalities. 

"Manners, son."

"Well he is! He sells counterfeit medicine, marks up the price tenfold, and he's working in cahoots with the local doctor who recommends his medicine as the only cure-all. If you ask me, the bloody doctor should die too."

Ethan sighed. "Stick to the mission, Jacob. There was only one target on your dossier."

"I'm just saying is all. It even fits in the when and where. They're meeting at the pub in a few hours. I could do them both in."

"Jacob." Ethan's tone was a warning. He didn't like arguing with his son, but sometimes Jacob made it so hard.

"How?" Jacob continued, ignoring his father's disdain. "Well, poison would be a good way, but seeing as how this is my first blooding I would want to use my hidden blade, so, ambush in his warehouse, where he's taking the doctor, by the way."

From the corner of his eye, Jacob saw his sister give him a sideways glace and shake her head slightly. A reaction from her usually meant he was taking it too far, and that meant their father had nearly reached the end of his tether as well.

"I could make you sit this one out, you know," Ethan warned. 

Jacob remained quiet and impassive, staring straight ahead, waiting, almost daring his father to do it.

Ethan was tempted. The boy was clearly still as insolent as ever. He honestly wondered if it would be a good idea to let him go through with this today. He had skill, yes, there was absolutely no doubt about that. However, he still had that stubborn streak to him that was apt to get him killed, and his apparent insubordination that was likely to get him in trouble with the Council.

Ethan looked to his friend for help. George just shrugged his shoulders, suggesting it was Ethan's call to make. He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Jacob, I don't need to remind you that this is serious business. This isn't training practice anymore, and it definitely isn't a game. Mess this up and there will be dire consequences. Or do I need to tell you the story of Arbaaz Mir's son again?"

He was inclined to roll his eyes at his father then, but he could feel his sister's disapproval rolling off her in waves. Personally, he was getting tired of the story of Jayadeep Mir, his father's brilliant initiate, executed for failing his first mission. In Jacob's opinion, the boy totally deserved it. And it was rather an insult to him to think his father thought he was that stupid.

"No, sir," Jacob replied quietly.

Ethan nodded. "Stick to your mission, or so help me I'll string you up in front of the Council myself."

With that last warning, he handed them each a white handkerchief and sent them off to get ready for their respective missions.

On their way up to their quarters, finally out of sight and earshot of George and their father, Evie slapped her brother at the back of the head.

"Oi! What the bloody hell was that for?" 

"Stop being such a prick!" Evie hissed.

"I wasn't!" He knew he was though. Totally. He didn't know why he loved to rile his father up the way he did.

"We'll be a step closer to being Assassins after this, Jacob. Please don't mess this up."

He shook his head. "Evie, even if I do mess up, you still wouldn't. You're miss bloody perfect. You'll do fine."

They reached the top of the stairs. Jacob turned to go to his room when Evie grabbed his arm.

"Do you think it's really true?" she asked.

"What is?"

"Jayadeep Mir. Do you think his father would really sentence him to death?"

Jacob shrugged. "Probably. Who knows what those Indians are capable of?"

"Do you-" she struggled with her next question. She had been thinking about it ever since their father told them the story. It was hard enough to mull it over in her mind, but it was harder to ask it out loud. "Do you think father would do the same? To us?"

Jacob could feel Evie's fear. It was rare to see Evie afraid like this. He moved closer to her and put a reassuring arm around her. 

"Me? Most probably. You? Definitely not. You're his favorite." He drew out that last word and rolled his eyes at her as he said it. It made her giggle.

"Shut up," she said, shoving away from him with a smile, her fear momentarily forgotten.

Jacob smiled back at her. "Seriously, Evie. You'll be fine."

She nodded, more reassured. She appreciated how Jacob could always make her feel better about things, despite what an ass he could be.

"Stay safe," he said with a wave of his hand as he made his way to his room.

"Don't die," she called back, and went to get herself ready.

*** 

Jacob left for his mission minutes later. Mr. Hill would be meeting the good doctor any moment. He still thought killing the doctor was a good idea, but Evie was right. This was important and he should stick to the mission.

Even though he pretended like it didn't matter to him, deep inside it did. Above all things he wanted his sister and his father to be proud of him. Of course, Evie was always proud of him, just as he was proud of her. They were twins, after all, each a different half of the same whole. 

Their father was another story. Evie had always been his favorite, on the account that she looked so much like their mother. Jacob, on the other hand, always felt that his father blamed him for his mother's death. Ethan never spoke of it, of course, but his disdain was most palpable

Despite that, he put aside his desire to do things his way for the moment. This blooding was for both Evie and himself, and, to a lesser extent, their father. He was, after all, their mentor. It would reflect badly upon him if Jacob didn't perform up to par. 

He got to the pub just in time to see Mr. Hill and the doctor enter a carriage. They were making their way to the warehouse now. Stealing a horse, he made his way there ahead of them. 

The factory wasn't nearly as well-guarded as he expected. There were only two guards, one stationed at the front and one at the back entrance. It was easy for him to enter Mr. Hill's warehouse undetected. He made his way to the office at the top floor, positioned himself behind the door, and waited.

It was a clean kill. The moment Mr. Hill entered, Jacob moved forward and slashed his throat from behind. It was rather anti-climactic for his first.

Until the doctor started screaming.

Jacob had almost forgotten he was there. He quickly grabbed the doctor by the scruff, shut the door to the office, and threatened him with his blade.

"One more peep and you're next," he warned.

"P-p-please! I'll do anything," the doctor wailed. "Just don't kill me."

"I won't kill you if you shut up." he jabbed the blade in the doctor's face, stopping an inch way from his nose. The doctor whimpered and wet himself.

"Really, doctor," Jacob said in disgust, shoving him into a wall where he crumpled upon himself and fell to the floor. "Listen, much as I would like to kill you, I've decided to let you go. On one condition."

"Wha-wha-wha-"

"Quiet, you stuttering cunt." Jacob grabbed a chair, paced it in front of the whimpering doctor and sat in it backwards, his arms resting on the back of the chair, his blade visible for the doctor to see. "I know what Mr. Hill here has been doing, and I know you've been helping him sell his so-called miracle drug."

"Wh-who are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. It matters that I know who you are." Jacob put a heavy booted foot on the doctor's kneecap and applied pressure. "I want you to stop selling this filth and robbing people of their hard-earned money. You're a doctor, for god's sake. Do your job and cure people. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes, whatever you say. Just please," the doctor winced as Jacob dug in further, "don't hurt me!"

Jacob finally removed his boot from the doctor's knee and stood up. He kicked the chair aside. The doctor cowered and hid his face.

"Just remember," Jacob warned, "I know where you live."

When the doctor gathered enough courage to finally look up, he found himself alone in the room with a very dead Albert Hill lying in a pool of his own blood, and not a single trace of the mysterious hooded attacker.

***

The carriage was late today. Harold Marsh usually left his home between 8 and 10 in the morning. It was now nearing noon. He was probably out until late last night, whoring. He's been known to do that from time to time.

This was something she had not anticipated. She had been sitting in the tree for nearly three hours now. 

This was part of what it is to be an Assassin, she told herself. It was a test of her patience and, she had to take it all in stride, despite how irritated she was becoming.

Suddenly, the branch under her dipped. She looked toward the end nearest the trunk and saw her brother perched on it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" This was not part of her plan either.

"I was bored," Jacob said lazily. "My mission took all of half an hour. I was wondering why you weren't home yet."

Evie sighed. "Marsh is running late."

Just then the sound of a carriage drifted to them.

"Speak of the devil," Jacob said.

Finally. Evie readied herself. "Please do stay out of this, brother dearest. This one's mine."

He held up his hands. "Don't mind me," he said and made himself comfortable on the crook of the branch.

The carriage was running at a steady gallop. Just as it passed beneath the tree Evie was on, she deftly dropped down onto its roof and knocked its driver out. The long wait had made her impatient to get the mission underway and she didn’t bother laying him down properly, a mistake she would regret for a very long time. 

She drove the carriage a few meters, spurring the horses on, but the unconscious driver fell across her lap and snagged himself on the reigns. The horses veered sharply to the left as the body tugged the reigns further with its dead weight, making the carriage totter precariously on its wheels and finally roll over once and rest on its roof.

Years of Assassin training paid off for Evie at that moment. Her quick reflexes enabled her to jump off the carriage just in time. She heard yelling from with in the cabin. Marsh, no doubt, wondering what was happening. 

"You okay?" Jacob quietly called to her from a tree. He had come running when he heard the crash. 

"Fine," she said dismissing him and focusing her mind back to the task at hand. It unnerved her that for all her meticulous planning, nothing was working out the way she wanted it to. Nothing seemed to be going right today. Nevertheless, the most important task was before her now. She hoped there were no more unexpected surprises from here on end.

She walked purposefully to the door of the overturned carriage. She released her hidden blade as she yanked the door open.

And she froze. 

She didn't know how long she just stood there. She probably wouldn't have moved if Jacob hadn't spoken. 

"Evie-?" Jacob's voice was tentative. He had made his way to her side to see what had been keeping her.

She snapped out of her trance and looked at him. First there was a look of relief when she saw him, then there was worry, then panic.

Looking into the carriage Jacob saw why.

Marsh was there, weeping. In his arms he was cradling a girl of about twelve. There was a gash on her head, blood matting her blonde hair. There was a linel of blood was trailing down the corner of her mouth.

"Please," Marsh wheezed. "Please help her."

Evie was once again transfixed by the sight of the girl in her father's arms. She had done that to her, to that innocent child. She had broken the creed. She messed up.

"Evie." Her brother sounded worried. Well he should be, she thought. She was in trouble for sure. The council was going to hang her for this.

When she didn't reply, he moved closer to her and shook her out of it.

"Evie! Focus!"

She blinked and looked at her brother. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Dammit Evie! Don't. You have to finish this. Now!"

"I- I can't." What was the point? She had already messed up by killing the girl.

"Yes, you can." He held up her gauntlet hand and pointed it to Marsh. "Just stick it in his throat and it'll all be over. Complete the mission."

But she couldn't move.

Jacob suddenly look worried. In the distance, there came the rumbling sound of a carriage.

"Bloody hell! Evie, someone's coming! Do it now!"

She finally decided to move, but her limbs felt like lead. She knelt down beside Marsh, readied her blade- 

But the sudden rasping breath of the girl in his arms stopped her.

She was alive!

Evie and Marsh both breathed a sigh of relief. Marsh murmured to his daughter, lovingly stroking her hair. "It's alright, sweet heart," you're going to be okay."

Evie's hand faltered yet again. Jacob was starting to lose his patience. The carriage was visible through the trees now. It would be upon them in soon.

Jacob gave her one last warning, but she didn't seem to hear.

"Fuck this!" he said as he stepped forward and stabbed Marsh in the heart, blood rapidly blooming on his chest where his blade entered. Satisfied that he was dead, he grabbed Evie and dragged her into the trees, a way off from the road. Finally he reached into her coat pocket and retrieved her white handkerchief, sprinted back to the carriage and dabbed it in the bleeding wound.

He made it back just in time before carriage arrived. The people who found the wreck made a fuss, but had the good sense to take all three passengers to the doctor in the village right away.

When the commotion was over and the road quiet again, Evie finally gathered enough courage face her brother and state the painfully obvious.

"I failed," she said quietly.

"No, you didn't." She could tell he was trying not to sound worried

She smiled sadly as she resolved herself to her fate. "Yes, I did. The little girl…I don't think she's going to make it. And Marsh. I couldn't, not with his daughter…The Council will kill me. Father will disown me." 

"Don't be silly," he said, coming to crouch in front of her. "You did it. I saw the whole thing. You were on top of things. You finished the job."

"What? No, Jacob-"

He held his hand up. "You finished the job," he repeated more forcefully. "It was unfortunate that his daughter was with him. But despite that, you got the job done, understood?" He handed her the blood-soaked handkerchief.

She looked at her brother. It was like she was seeing him for the first time. For all their lives, it had always been her job to fix up the mess Jacob managed to get them (or himself at least) into. But now, on probably the most important day of their lives, here he was stepping up and taking charge. She was grateful in that moment that she had a brother like him.

"We're going to get through this, okay?"

Evie nodded.

"Atta girl." He stood up and helped her to her feet. 

They made their way home in silence, the weight of what had just happened was beginning to settle upon both of them. Even Jacob was pacified, and that in itself was a rare occurrence. After cleaning themselves up, they went to the study to face their father.

They handed Ethan their handkerchiefs, proof of their missions accomplished.

Ethan turned to his son first. "I heard there is a certain doctor about town who has been blabbering about a meeting the angel of death."

Jacob smirked. "Well, I don't know about angel…"

"You left a witness," father interrupted pointedly. 

"With all due respect, sir, I spared his life because he was not on the list. But I tried my best to make him stop selling the medicine."

Jacob knew he was being cocky, but he was surprised his father didn't react. Instead, Ethan went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I do commend you for practicing your self restraint. I didn't think you would spare him. Congratulations."

Jacob was stunned at his father's unexpected gesture. The man had never congratulated him before. He relished the moment, but it was short-lived. There was still Evie's predicament to think about.

Ethan turned to Evie next. "There was an accident in the woods?" he asked, moving to stand before her.

For a moment, Evie couldn't speak. She was on the verge of telling the truth, telling him that she had failed, but the prospect of being sentenced to her death seemed far less appealing than lying to save her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jacob's head nod ever so slightly. She knew he would stick by her, and that gave her enough courage to finally talk. 

"The horses got spooked, and the carriage overturned when they bolted. I barely got out unscathed. I failed to notice that Marsh's daughter was in the carriage with him. He never took her with him before." She tried to make her voice as confident as she could.

Ethan was standing in front of her. Evie gathered all her strength to look her father in the eye. His stare was penetrating, but she did her best to hold it. She was too afraid to even think what would happen to her if she caved in and told him the truth of her failure. 

"How did it feel, taking your fist life?" 

She faltered for a second before answering. "It wasn't easy."

"You almost took three lives today, Evie." His gaze was steady on her, his voice and his demeanor hardening. "The girl will be lucky if she makes through the night. And the driver, though unconscious, he's alive but a horse fell on him and he lost both his legs." He had been cross with her before, but never like this. She could feel his disappointment. 

Jacob could feel Evie's resolve start to crumble from the inside. She always pretended to be tough on the outside, but she was his twin and he knew her. He knew her father's words were working on her conscience and her confidence. He decided it was time to step in.

"Actually, that was my fault."

Evie and Ethan both turn to look at Jacob. He was looking down at his feet, not meeting their gaze. Evie had mixed emotions of relief and guilt. 

Ethan narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you mean your fault?" 

"I finished early," he began to explain. " Evie wasn't home when I came looking for her, so I decided to check if she was okay. Her target was delayed, but her mission was underway when I arrived. I spooked the horses."

Ethan's expression darkened. He turned to Evie. "Is this true?"

She started to shake her head, no, but Jacob interjected.

"For once stop trying to defend me!"

Her head snapped to her brother. He had a look in his eye, almost pleading with her to just shut up and let it happen.

"Yes," she finally said.  "It's true."

Ethan rounded on his son, furious. "You almost cost your sister her mission," their father growled, "and two innocent lives?"

"I'm sorry," Jacob said quietly.

Ethan looked like he wanted to strangle him, but instead he turned to move to his desk. 

Ethan sighed heavily. Just when he thought Jacob was finally coming around. He was lost in thought for a moment, the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples. This was not going to go well with the council. Probably not as bad as what happened to Jayadeep, but still bad.

The twins stood by, waiting, nervous.

"All in all, they are technically successful missions," he sad, his voice suddenly sounding tired as he took a seat behind his desk. "I shall send word to the council tomorrow morning. Evie, you may leave."

Evie let out a breath of relief. She made her way to the door and turned to wait for her brother, but Ethan had not dismissed him yet. Her father was waiting for her to leave.

Her heart sank. She knew Jacob was in trouble again. This time, though, it was different. This time it was her fault. She stepped out of the study, closed the door behind her.

Almost immediately, she heard her father's raised voice. It was muffled by the thick oak door, and she couldn't really make out what he was saying, but the fury in his voice was unmistakable.

Just then there was an arm around her shoulder. She had not noticed George in the hallway.

"Come away, Evie," he said gently. He led her to the kitchen and offered her a cup of tea. Minutes later, the large oak doors were yanked open and they heard Jacob's footsteps thunder up the stairs to his room.

"I should bring him some tea," Evie said, and rushed up to his room, forgetting to even bring the tea in her haste.

She knocked gently on the door when she got there. When there was no response, she opened it and peeked inside. Jacob was lying on his bed.

"Jacob?" Evie asked tentatively as she entered his room.

He didn't reply, so she went over to his bed and sat beside him. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. When he turned his face toward her, she gasped.

There on his cheek was a darkening bruise. His confrontation with their father had finally come to blows. She felt utterly devastated. This was her fault and her brother was paying for it.

"Jacob!" Her voice was almost a whisper. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, afraid he would flinch from her, but he didn't. "What happened?"

"Well, what do you think? He's furious with me." His voice wasn't angry, it was sad, and that made her heart clench even more.

"I told you not to," she said, yet thankful all the same that he had. "So what happens now?"

"He will report it to the council, and we should just sit tight and see if they would permit me this one infraction. All in all I'd say it's much better than being sentenced to death."

"Oh, Jacob."

She surged forward and gave her brother a fierce hug. This more than made up for all those times she got him out of trouble. 

"This is by far the stupidest thing you've ever done," she sobbed. "Thank you."

He patted his sister on the shoulder and managed a smile. "At least now we're even, yeah?"

Evie straightened up, shaking her head. "This is too much, what you did. I still feel like I owe you something."

"Well, now that you mentioned it…"

*** 

The Council's verdict came the day after Ethan sent his report. The twins had passed their blooding, but Jacob was subject to disciplinary action. Ethan was given free reign to decide what his punishment would be.

They discussed his punishment behind closed doors, and when Jacob finally entered his room, he found Evie sitting on his bed, waiting for him.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?"  
She gave and exasperated sigh. "You know very well what. What is his punishment?"

Jacob just shook his head, forlorn, as he sat beside her.

"It can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Oh my god. Did he whip you?"

"What? What am I, a horse? Of course not."

"What then?" Evie was annoyed he wasn't giving her a direct answer.  
"He-" It was the worse punishment he could ever think of receiving. He sighed heavily. "He gave me a reading list."

"WHAT?!"

"Reading. He wants me to read. I can't go out, not even for training, until I finish every goddamn book on his reading list."

Evie began to giggle. It was the most absurd punishment, but, knowing Jacob, it was also the most horrible for him. He hated reading. 

"Stop laughing. This is your fault!" His tried to sound angry, but she could see he was trying to suppress his smile.

The relief she felt was beyond words. She hugged her brother tightly. "At least it's better than a whipping."

"I'd rather take a whipping." 

Evie laughed. "No, you wouldn't"

Jacob smiled.

"Oh, and by the way," Evie said as she stood up, "I have something for you." She took a handkerchief out of her pocket. Jacob took it from her. It had blood on it.

"That was quick." He said. She gave him a wink and left.

***

After breakfast the next day, Jacob trudged to the study to begin his punishment. His father was waiting for him, the first book on the list sitting in the middle of his large desk. It was a thick and dusty tome of the history of Hassan i-Sabbah and the Hashashin in Persia. Jacob groaned.

When he looked up at his father, there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked his father.

"Very much so," Ethan said, his smile widening.

Before Jacob picked up the book, he handed something to his father. It was Evie's white handkerchief from yesterday.

"She did it. I told you she would."

Ethan took the handkerchief and turned it over in his hand. "I never doubted she could."

Jacob nodded. He took the book from the table and turned to find a seat near the window, when his father spoke again.

"You know, son, I never apologized for what I did."

Jacob turned around to face him. He didn't know what to say. Ethan had never apologized to him in his life.

"I'm sorry I hit you the other day." His father said. He was a strict man, especially when it came to him, and he could see this apology wasn't easy. "You have to understand, I was thinking about Evie…"

Jacob nodded. "So was I." 

It was then that Ethan felt a rush of guilt. He had been so bitter about losing Cecily all these years, bitter at the fact that had it not been for Jacob she would still be alive. Through that haze of anger he failed to see what a fine young man his son was growing up to be up to be. Evie had only been spared because she reminded him so much of Cecily.

The other day, when Evie had left the room, he flew at his son in a rage, angry because he had almost made his sister fail. Jacob took it all, the screaming and the punch. And when his father had quieted down, Jacob explained everything. 

"I'll take full responsibility for her failure," he said to his father. "I don't want to see her get hurt. I know you don't too."

It struck him like a ton of bricks. This son of his who he thought a complete waste of skill - a loiter-sack who only wanted to start fights and do things his way - was actually putting himself on the line for the sake of his sister. And for what? So Ethan would be spared losing his beloved daughter.

So it was that they made a deal. If the council found out, there was no doubt Evie would be punished. Ethan doubted that the council would go so far as to put her to death like Arbaaz his son, but neither of them wanted to take any chances. They would go on with this charade as planned. Jacob would take the punishment, but he had to convince Evie to take a life and complete her blooding. Ethan conceded to the doctor being her target after Jacob presented him with more evidence of his involvement with Templar activities. 

Through all this, not once did Jacob make an appeal for his punishment.

Ethan was glad, though, that the Council had ruled that he would decide on how to discipline his son. They knew how firm-handed he was with his children and they expected no less. 

He knew Jacob hated reading, so he chose that. It wasn't so much a folly, as Jacob thought it to be. Ethan had finally seen the potential in his son, and he wanted to build up on it. The books he chose were ones he knew would appeal to the younger man - books of war and strategy - topics he knew Jacob wouldn't lose to boredom and could actually use to his advantage.

And, of course, he wanted to finally get used to being with his son, even if it was just being in the same room. He had no doubt they would eventually work up to other things - like having a normal conversation without it ending in an argument- but for now that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a hundred % satisfied with it yet, but I wanted to put it up already. This might get tweaked from time to time. Just little things though. Hope y'all enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, Hassan-i Sabbah was an Ismaili missionary and founded a group of fedayeen who were referred to as the Hashashin. Bartol's book Alamut is based on Hasaan and his Hashashin, and was the inspiration for AC.


End file.
